Fallout New Vegas: The Tale of Courier Six
by Masser
Summary: The Courier awakes with no knowledge of her past, and an uncertain future. This is her story. The entirety of New Vegas. Main quests, DLC and Companion quests included. This is a labor of love and I will add chapters as I finish them.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Good Morning, Goodsprings!

Doc Mitchell pulled the final stitch through and began to tie it off. The poor bastard. The bullet had gone clean through the side of their skull, scraping off the outside of the temporal lobe. Not enough for lasting damage, but the hearing of the patient would be impaired on their right side for some time until the brain repaired itself.

The sound of Victor's voice startled him. "Hey pardner, do y'all think they'll still be kickin' tomorrow?"

"I don't know"

Doc Mitchell sat beside the bed, reading his notes. It had been a week, and they still hadn't woken up. He'd changed the bandages to avoid infection, but there'd been no sign of consciousness returning anytime soon. Victor had returned to his shack, apparently waiting for the patient. Doc Mitchell had no idea who they were. Their clothes were covered in blood when Victor brought them in and all they had on them was a small satchel. A 10mm with some ammo, a hunting knife, some Rad-X and a note. It was opened but he felt it inappropriate to look at his patient's belongings. He sighed and put down his notes, looking over to the bed. Not much he could do now. A soft groan came from the patient. What? They'd made no noise so far. He reached over and put his hand on theirs. They twitched and grasped the doctor's fingers. Progress!

He started to talk to the patient softly. "Hello? Are you awake?"

The light was harsh. Something was holding her arms down, stopping her from sitting up.

"Woah! Take it easy!"

Doc Mitchell slowly helped her sit up.

"Just a moment, sleepyhead. Let me get these bandages off."

Nausea overwhelmed her and she lurched forward, doc catching her just in time.

"You've been out awhile" He grunted. "you gotta take it easy!"

She wavered as her vision blurred.

Her voice cracked "Wh- m- I-?"

Unwinding the bandages, Doc Mitchell began to explain. It sounded like a fever dream.

Something that never really happened.

"Do you remember your name?"

She shook her head.

"Well, let's see if you can walk, at least."

Holding her by the elbows, Doc Mitchell helped her stand, legs still shaking. He helped her sit back down on the bed.

"Do you understand what happened?"

She nodded, still wavering.

"Can you speak?"

She cleared her throat. "I think so."

Doc Mitchell stood up and smirked.

"Well, you're alive, and you can speak. Looks like you've got some cognitive function too."

He reached over to his desk.

"Here, take a look."

She focused on the mirror held before her. A large, gnarled scar ran from her temple to just past her ear. The bruising made her temple look like a squashed mutfruit. She smacked her lips. "How long have I been out?"

Doc Mitchell thought on this for a moment. "I think it best for us to finish checking your noggin is still, well, a noggin."

He stood and passed her some basic underwear.

"Here. You might need these."

Looking down she noticed that she was naked but for a medical gown. Embarrassment rose on her cheeks and she snatched the underwear from the doctor. He shook his head and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Doc Mitchell shuffled the papers on his clipboard and looked up. "Are you ready?"

She nodded.

"So, this here is a psychological evaluation. We're gonna run through this and check your clocks are still ticking. Or at least still there. All right. I'm gonna say a word. I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind… Dog."

"Bone."

"House."

"...Home? No, uh…. lock?"

Doc Mitchell raised an eyebrow. "Night."

"Day."

"Bandit."

"Uh, I'm not getting anything… I'm really not sure."

He shook his head. "Let's stop for the moment. Here." He reached for the satchel behind his seat, searching for the note. "You should read this."

She took it cautiously. It was… orders? Mojave Express. What was it about that name? Something clicked.

"I'm a courier!" She exclaimed, excited at this new information.

Doc Mitchell nodded. "I'd guessed as much, but I thought I should let you get to your own conclusions."

Her excitement faded as she began to feel lost. "So, what now? I don't even know my name."

Doc Mitchell considered this. "Perhaps just 'The Courier' would do? It's not a name, but a title is alright until you figure out who you were. What were you delivering?"

The Courier scanned the note. "A casino chip, I think. Something to get shot over, at least." She folded up the note and passed it back to Doc Mitchell. "Are we going to continue the test?"

He shrugged. "I guess if you want to, I was just gonna show you some Rorschach pictures and see what you said." He paused. "But you seem pretty fit for someone who just got shot in the head last week. Do you want your satchel?"

The Courier nodded. "Yes please, better check nothing is missing. Not that I'd know it was."

Doc Mitchell chuckled. "Don't worry, there's nothing in there of interest to me."

Taking out the tarnished 10mm pistol the Courier inspected it. Nothing special. She checked the magazine and reloaded it with the extra rounds laying about in her bag. Placing it beside her she dug further into the bag. Her hand closed around a leather strap, and upon further inspection it was a thigh holster with a hunting knife still in it. The largely serrated blade had a few nicks and scratches, and had obviously seen some wear. Fingering the grip of the blade she placed it along with holster with the gun beside her. The Doctor cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I know you don't remember anything, but as far as I can see, you were going to Vegas."

The Courier's eyes narrowed. "And how do you figure that?"

He stood up. "What yokel's gonna know you're carrying something valuable enough to get shot over?"

He had a point. Who in hell's name would know she was a courier? Standing up, the doctor put aside his clipboard and placed a blue and yellow jumpsuit upon the Courier's lap as she lingered deep in thought. She looked down. A vault jumpsuit?

"I'll be back in a moment." The doctor left her alone. Inspecting the jumpsuit she noticed the number on the back. 21. Blackjack. There was once a Vault in Vegas, this much she knew. But this was a women's jumpsuit, and Doc Mitchell wasn't nearly that petite. He returned with what looked like an enormous wristband. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. "This here is a PipBoy. You might've noticed, the suit ain't my size. It was my wife's. This thing might just help you get yourself back on track." He passed her the PipBoy and placed it gently in her hands.

"Thank you, Doctor."

He nodded. "Call me Doc. And… you're welcome."

A half hour later the Courier was changed and looked, in Doc Mitchell's opinion, like a bonafide Vault Dweller.

"I'm surprised I scrubbed up at all!" She laughed. The Doctor gave her a sad smile. "I'm.. glad it fits. I've got no use for that now, so you're better off wearing it. Your clothes were in no fit state to be worn again." He sighed. "I gotta start cleaning up the clinic, do you mind giving me a hand?" The Courier nodded and they got to work.


	2. Chapter 2: Always Sunny In Goodsprings

Chapter 2: Always Sunny in Goodsprings

Doc Mitchell hammered away at the boards, covering up his kitchen window. The glass had finally fallen out of the frame, and despite the Courier starting to help Sunny cut down the gecko population, there were still other critters that would find an open window much too inviting for his tastes. Mantis legs were palatable, live mantis in his bed? Not so much. The Courier had offered to help him but she had been roped into scouting the area for larger, more dangerous critters in the outer hills with Sunny the day before. There had been a sighting of "an enormous black bark scorpion" by the Bighorner farmers while they had been fencing a new pasture. Naturally, Sunny had said agreed for her and the Courier to go look. She'd turned up at the clinic with her dog, Cheyenne, that morning with an unusually big grin on her face, reeking of energetic suspicion. After trying to convince the Courier that the scouting would be good experience and some puppy-dog eyes from both Cheyenne and Sunny, the Courier caved and decided to tag along.

Sunny and the Courier had become fast friends, and even Cheyenne was fond of the Courier. It had been about six weeks since she'd woken up, but the Courier was doing well. With the return of all her motor functions, Sunny had offered to help her get used to handling weapons again. Turned out the Courier was a quick shot, and Sunny started to take her around the water tanks to clear out the gecko population that had taken root. Sunny had also introduced the Courier to Trudy, the owner of the Prospector's Saloon. Doc Mitchell had scolded the Courier a few times for coming back to the clinic in the wee hours of the morning after spending the night playing caravan with Sunny and Trudy. He knew he was a hypocrite for it, but he had started to care for the Courier. She'd brought some liveliness back into his life of silence and sewing up gecko bites. He just hoped that she and Sunny hadn't bitten off more than they could chew with these scouting trips.

The sun beat down upon the Courier's back as she and Sunny climbed the hill up to the Yangtze Memorial. The enormous at its peak had lost half of it's covering, iron framing outlining what would have been a solemn monument before the war. It was the best spot to scout the valley below, but the incline wasn't a kind one to climb.

"You okay back there, Cee?" Sunny yelled, already atop the hill.

The Courier grunted a yes in reply as she hauled herself onto the steps of the memorial. Lying back, the sun soaked into the vault suit Doc Mitchell had given her to wear when she'd awoken. Sunny sat down beside her and took a swig from her canteen, offering some to the Courier. Shaking her head, the Courier sat up and took her own canteen from her bag that she had hastily packed that morning. Gulping the water down she felt Cheyenne flop at her feet, panting hard. Sunny took out a half a dried gourd and poured some of her water out for her, her tail wagging gratefully as she lapped up the water.

"So, feeling a little more human now we're up the hill?" Sunny asked

"Mmm. I'll be glad to head back down it once we're done here." The Courier sighed.

Sunny laughed. "Climbing is half the fun! Now we get to find out what those bighorner farmers were talking about." She frowned. "I really hope they're not as big as they implied, or we'll have to get some extra guns to get rid of them."

The Courier nodded and put away her canteen, standing up. "Shall we, then?"

Sunny nodded in response and took out her binoculars, stretching a little as she stood up. Walking around the memorial the Courier dug out her binoculars and wiped the lenses with her sleeve. Cheyenne followed Sunny closely, the her gourd waterbowl carried in her mouth. The valley beyond goodsprings was picturesque, sunbaked rock faces decorated with sparse greenery. Clumps of brock flowers and desert grass quivered in the dry breeze that sauntered up the valley. Bringing up her binoculars, the Courier noticed something black tucked under an alcove in the rock face. She gestured to Sunny, who seemed to have already noticed it.

Sunny's voice dropped. "Cee, get ready to put the leash on Cheyenne."

"What?"

Sunny crouched, slinging off her bag and loading her varmint rifle. "I said get the leash for Cheyenne. Look."

The Courier brought up her binoculars as Sunny pulled her down. Three enormous black scorpions crawled out from under the alcove, pincers glinting in the sunlight as they scuttled towards the memorial.

Grabbing the leash from Sunny's bag the Courier nabbed Cheyenne by the collar, clipping it on fast. The poison from one of those things could kill all of them with ease. She tugged on the strap over her shoulder, pulling her varmint rifle into her hands. The scorpions were getting closer, and running from them wasn't going to be a valid option. Cheyenne tugged at the leash around her wrist as Sunny took the first shot. It was a bullseye, knocking out the right legs of one of the scorpions. The Courier offed a shot, grazing the carapace of one of the scorpions. Sunny took a second shot, taking out the legs of a second scorpion. As the last scorpion got close Cheyenne started to bark furiously as the Courier struggled to keep her in one place.

"Keep Cheyenne back, I'll get this one!" Sunny yelled to the Courier.

Flipping her rifle over her back, she took Cheyenne's leash in both hands and started to drag her away. The last scorpion had almost reached the top of the hill, but Sunny stood her ground. One shot between the pincers at short range and the scorpion had stopped dead (quite literally) in its tracks. The other two injured scorpions struggled against their crippled legs as Sunny finished them off.

Wiping her brow, Sunny plopped down onto the ground as the Courier let Cheyenne go. She licked Sunny's face and leant on her, knocking her onto the ground as Sunny laughed. The Courier sighed with relief. Those scorpions were enormous, and without Sunny's quick aim they'd probably have had a lot more trouble. She gestured for the Courier to sit beside her, recovering from Cheyenne's puppy love.

"Sorry, Sunny." The Courier sighed.

"Next time, Cee, next time." Sunny smiled

"I hope so, Sunny. I really do."

Sunny rested a hand on the Courier's shoulder. "It takes time to get used to killing real creatures again. I mean, one shot and that life can be gone. That's why I got you to keep Cheyenne back." Sunny's face clouded. "Those scorpions are just like guns - one shot of that poison and you're down for the count."

"Since when were you so philosophical?" The Courier laughed.

Sunny's face darkened. "You never know when someone you care about could leave you. Maybe of their own volition, maybe not." She scratched Cheyenne behind the ears. "Sometimes you have to take precautions to keep what's precious to you."

The Courier nodded in agreement, but little stirred within her. She still had no memory of where she had come from, and why she was in the Mojave. No family, no friends to speak of. Sunny had become her first new "friend" since she had woken up. She knew Doc Mitchell, but he was more of a roomate than anything else. The Courier leaned back on her hands.

"Sunny, we're friends, right?"

Sunny laughed, her solemn mood having disappeared. "Of course! I love having you around, and so does Cheyenne. She barely ever takes to any-"

The Courier turned towards her "Seriously, Sunny. It's been six weeks and I've still got no memory of who or where I was, where I come from."

Sunny frowned, and then lit up with an idea. "Maybe you need to make new memories before the others come back to you?"

The Courier nodded. "I think you're right."


End file.
